Old Man Don...

I have, from time to time, groused about my impending old man-ness. Sure, it's thirty years too soon at the very least, and I don't have a lawn to yell at kids to keep off of, or a porkpie hat, or a jumpsuit in colors not found in nature, but those are really just details that will take care of themselves. I'm turning into an old man inside, where it counts.
   Let me 'splain how I know this. It has everything to do with my taste buds.
   I've been laying off the sugar for a while now, trying to be good and stay away from candy, cake, pie, cookies, all the delicious little snacks that make life worth living. And I've been keeping to that pretty well. So today I walked down to the Post Office near La Brea - where the clerks are beginning to recognize me - to mail a few query letters in support of my ambitions as a writer, which I have mentioned before . Walking back I decided to go into the local Ralph's for a bit of lunch.
   Long story short (or barely longer), I didn't get any lunch, but I did buy a soda and a candy bar. That's right, I fell off the sugar wagon; I am worthless and weak. I got back to the office and I ate my sandwich, sipped my soda, and saved the candy bar for later. Mid-afternoon came and I dug into the Snickers Bar.
   It made my teeth hurt. Really. I did finish it, my parents didn't raise a quitter, but I had to struggle through the last bites. It was really, really, really sweet. Too much.
   Time was I could have torn through three or four of those things. I'm sure I did, back in the salad days of my youth. But now... old man-ness is descending on me like a black shroud on a corpse, and I can't eat candy like I used to.
   Unless it's those Werther's hard 'caramels' or ribbon candy. Who doesn't love ribbon candy?


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